'Kulning 5' 2014 Naomi Kendrick
photo by Andrew Brooks
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I have recently returned from Marina Abramovic's 512 hours at the Serpentine gallery.
There I encountered; people, a few objects, time and minimal direction
as to what I should do, given with the lightest touch. Somehow these
things pulled together to provide a profound experience, something
wordless that happened in my mind, and that was visible in the faces of
other visitors. Something I will never forget.
If the role of art is to hold a mirror up to us all, then for me, with 512 hours and The Artist is Present (2010) Abramovic has done this perfectly. And the accounts of
those who disliked the work seem to highlight this, just as much as the
praise.
Soon after emerging from 512 hours I found myself in the 2014
portrait award exhibition in the National portrait gallery. Slightly
overwhelmed, I watched great crowds of people jostling to get into
position, where they could best stand and look directly into the eyes of a
painted person. I was struck by how strong that urge to look at others
was and how through that urgent gaze, we are attempting to understand
more about ourselves. The traditional painted portrait is a very literal
example of course, but I feel that ultimately the same exchange is
sought when we encounter all art,
whether we are sharing in the artists humor, politics or heartache or
simply marveling in their ability to manipulate paint. Abramovic has
stripped away and distilled to leave a nugget, a simple and direct
connection between one another, and with ourselves.
'Untitled' 2014 Naomi Kendrick photo by Andrew Brooks |
Through
my work, I attempt to create something that offers a meaningful
experience for the audience, and for myself. In recent years drawing,
alone and through participatory performances, has felt like the right
way for me to reach that point, but why? I think the answer to this
connects to 'Abramovic's nugget', in one way it is about finding the
most direct means of communication. Drawing; from mind, to hand, to mark
is perhaps the most immediate of all art forms, there is something
instinctive about it. Also, as a process it can be all encompassing,
transporting. I feel it can get to, and articulate, the nitty gritty of
what it is to be human. I also love how drawing looks, I am addicted to
the possibilities of the mark.
Detail of 'Untitled' 2014 Naomi Kendrick photo by Andrew Brooks see full image |
I
have been drawing as long as I can remember, from dreamily drawing as a
child lying in sunlight, to various cold studios, pushing the material
or myself to extremes. I have drawn; without using my sight, for
extensive periods, in response to sound and in front of live audiences.
These drawing processes induce anxiety, joy and many more states of
mind, all of which make their way out onto the page. More recently I
have been attempting to provoke and harness these states of mind without
being 'carried there' exclusively by music or the adrenalin of a performance. I
forget when, but the idea of drawing an object in front of me has
disappeared for now, its as if I am going back to the dream drawings I
made as a child in that patch of light....At the start of each drawing I
ready myself, take a deep breath and then jump, out into the unknown. I
see drawing as a place to go to, a space to be in. There I think and
feel things that otherwise may go unnoticed, test myself, and try to
test what drawing can be.
Drawing in Progress (Day One) 'Corner Drawing 1' 2014 Naomi Kendrick |
Drawing in Progress (Day Two) 'Corner Drawing 1' 2014 Naomi Kendrick |
There are others who have taken similar journeys through their drawing. Henri Michaux
began as a writer and his drawings and paintings grew out of a
frustration with the limitations of the written language; his work was
an attempt to discover a new 'universal language', one that enabled him
to express himself fully. He pushed his mind, testing it to great
extremes using the drug mescaline. At first his written words became
marks almost like calligraphy, as he continued to draw and observe his
states of mind the marks evolved, sometimes becoming reminiscent of pulsating crowds of
organisms under a microscope. This was his mind on the page, yet there is something familiar about the forms he brought into being.
Mescaline Drawing c. 1956-1958 Henri Michaux |
Robert Morris created
a series of hundreds of 'Blind Time Drawings' between 1973 and 2000 in
which he drew blindfolded. Many of them were self imposed challenges
around the act of mark making. Morris meticulously documented the
action, timing and material for every drawing for example for 'Blind
Time 1' 1973 he wrote 'with the eyes closed an attempt is made to tape
out and blacken a square figure within an estimated time lapse of 5
minutes. Time stimation error: 5 seconds.'
Blind Time 1 1973 Robert Morris
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This rather clinical method shifted into something more personal over time, and towards the end of the series in 1999 Morris made 'Blind Time V. Melancholia'. Through this drawing about the death of his father Morris almost physically relives an intense emotional experience '...I begin at the bottom of the page pressing upward with the strength I remember exerting in lifting his frail body from the bedroom floor where he had fallen...'
Blind Time V. Melancholia 1999 Robert Morris
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Michaux and Morris seem to have inhabited drawing fully, their drawings are both evidence of a place visited, and the means of which to get there. I realise now that through my own various drawing processes I have been aiming to get to this point of in-habitation, and will continue to do so. Drawing is my first language, I know it is not the only way, but at some point I always return to it. Michaux himself best explains why...
'I paint just as I write. To discover, to rediscover
myself, to find what is truly mine, that which, unbeknown to me, has
always belonged to me. To experience at once the surprise of it and the
pleasure of recognising it. To bring forth or bear witness to the
appearance of a certain vagueness, a certain aura, where others would,
or do, see fullness.
To render an impression of
'presence' everywhere, to reveal (and first and foremost to myself) the
tangles, the chaotic movement, the extreme liveliness of the 'I know not
what' which stirs in my remotest being and seeks a foothold on the
shore.'
Henri Michaux 1959
This is really great reading Naomi. Thank you. I was moved to write some inconclusive reflections...
ReplyDeleteIt's interesting because I also remember drawing being my first language and that it always had the ability to be inhabited by me. There were two distinct processes: that of creation and that of showing - or looking at. The former was why I did it - for myself. The latter was when others entered the story. As a child I was making mostly representations of the world I saw and the world in my self. It became a sort of approval-getting process. I might be thick and ugly - but I can draw this... It's taken me a long time to get to the places similar to those you describe - free expression and gesture in response to sound, music, feeling etc. I know it's what I have to do now. But if drawing or making art is in part - as you describe - holding up a mirror to, or for, the viewer then I see people struggling to 'read' such gestural, free, expressive works. And that's just fine by me. The struggle makes the viewer inhabit the drawing.. like Abramovic's work - you are made to open up an inner eye of some kind.
I've been an admirer of Henri Michaux's work for some time - especially because he breaks out of the bounds of writing to drawing and you can track that process in some of his work. It's a simplification of the language that creates a more complex array of possibilities that can go beyond the written.
Your work has always produced positive effects on me during this journey - I appreciate it aesthetically and emotionally (if the two can be reasonably separated here), but most of all it inspires me to continue and excites me to see what you do next!
Jon Barraclough